


Drip... Drip...

by AdaMarina



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Ducklair Tower was destroyed before the triplets were born, Gladstone knows, Like... the entire fic, PK DT17 AU, So some things are out of context, This ficlet takes place in the middle of the AU, Uno is an android, Uno only recently got an android body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 02:21:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14392203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdaMarina/pseuds/AdaMarina
Summary: Uno didn’t look convinced, especially as Donald had to start the bandaging process over again. He leaned back, letting the silence go for a moment or two.“So,” he started, watching as Donald pulled the bandage tight again, “how long do you think it’ll take them to realize I’m an android?” He glanced up at the cave ceiling, unable to resist smirking. “Not that I don’t have the utmost faith in this plan of yours…”Donald leveled him with the most unimpressed expression Uno had ever seen him muster. “Save the sass, Uno.”





	1. Bandages

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an AU I made ages ago and decided to start exploring again... because I really enjoy this AU. Sue me.
> 
> I haven't had much drive lately to write (I've been drawing more, to be honest...) but I felt an urge to write today and this happened.
> 
> If only I could get that drive to write the fics that need updating...
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

In the silence around him, all he could hear was the steady  _drip drip_ of water.

He held his breath. He didn’t know why.

Everything seemed to hurt. There was darkness. He could see nothing. His head was fuzzy- he was sure he’d hit it. His ribs were on fire and his lungs burned, whether from the ache or the need for oxygen he wasn’t sure but it hurt.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to not breathe.

_Drip… drip… drip…_

Water on stone. A cave? He tried to remember. 

A cave-in.

_“Donald, watch out!”_

Something slammed into him. Someone grabbed him. He was dragged. Something hit him again. Someone screamed. A crash. The memory was fuzzy- someone grabbed him. Someone pulled him to them- away from the center of the cave-in.

Who? What happened?

He didn’t know.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Donald.”

The voice echoed in the cave- yes, he was sure it was a cave now. A presence next to him- was it there before or did it just arrive? Who was it? Donald squinted into the darkness, but then the darkness lit up.

Green eyes stared down at him, slightly glowing.

Uno.

Donald blinked.

“Breathe.”

A hand on his shoulder. Concerned frown. Scrunched brow.

He was safe, he realized, and through the pain he finally sucked in a breath.

He coughed. His throat burned. He could taste copper in his mouth.

That wasn’t good.

“What happened?” he asked, or tried to ask. His voice was raspier than usual, completely unintelligible even to himself.

His friend seemed undisturbed by his voice, though. He helped Donald sit up- not too much- and slid a backpack under him, to prop him up.

“Magica happened,” Uno answered, offering him a bottle of water. Donald gazed at it for a moment before following Uno’s arm, noticing his sleeve ripped almost completely off, the faux skin and feathers beneath scraped away along his forearm. The metal was dented in several places, bashed open in others, and the wiring was exposed. The metal skeleton inside was visible, and vaguely Donald wondered if it hurt.

“I’m an android, Donald,” Uno reminded him, and Donald blinked up at him, confused. Seeing his confusion, Uno expanded with, “I don’t have pain receptors.”

He realized he’d spoken aloud.

He coughed again.

Finally Donald took the water, hand shaking, and took a sip. It cooled his throat and felt like ice in his stomach.

He grimaced.

“A blasting spell hit a cave support,” Uno told him, sitting back against a rock. His eyes were brighter now, Donald noticed- probably to avoid blinding him, he was slowly brightening them. Lighting up the cave. “You grabbed Huey and threw him to Gladstone right before a rock hit your shoulder. I grabbed you and tried to pull you to safety but obviously it didn’t work- the entire cave fell in too fast for any of us to react. Gladstone’s already checked in, Launchpad’s leg is broken and Louie has a sprained ankle, and everyone else has some bruises, but they managed to get to safety.”

Donald studied his friend. His jacket was ripped and the shirt beneath barely fared any better, and the skin was stripped from several different areas on his body to reveal the metal beneath, but only his arm had cracked casing and wires showing.

He blinked.

“You shielded me,” he finally guessed, eyes wandering around the cave.

It was small, with a pile of fallen rocks on one side and random rocks scattered about. Water dripped from the ceiling in what could almost be called a corner, a puddle forming underneath. Uno must have grabbed him and run for the closest safety- away from the falling rocks. They were trapped.

“Well duh, the rocks would have crushed you,” Uno said, flexing his fingers. Donald looked back at his arm- its state made sense now. He had no doubt Uno blocked a falling stone with his arm. “Reinforced metal is a lot more durable than skin and bones. I’ve barely lost any movement in my hand.”

Donald rubbed his head. “Thanks, Uno.”

Uno looked at him, frowning. “It’s what friends do. Besides, you would’ve done the same for any of the rest of us.”

He couldn’t deny it. He closed his eyes.

“Is it safe for me to sleep?” Donald muttered.

“Yeah.” That was all Uno said.

His head hurt. He was dimly aware of Uno shifting over to sit next to him, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he focused on the darkness behind his eyelids and slid into blissful unconsciousness.

When he woke again- who knows how long later- he felt surprisingly better.

His head was less fuzzy and he didn’t feel like something was trying to crawl out of his chest. He picked up the water bottle still next to him and quickly drank more. It didn’t hurt nearly as badly as before.

Pushing himself up, he finally looked down at himself. Covered in dust, a little blood and several bruises, it wasn’t exactly something he wasn’t used to. The rips in his suit, however, he wasn’t too fond of.

It was his favourite suit.

He noticed the bandage around his abdomen- strange, he thought, as he hadn’t noticed any pain there earlier- and wondered where it came from.

 _The backpack,_ he told himself.  _Of course._  He had a first aid kit in there. The pain was gone because Uno had given him painkillers.

“Good morning,” Uno greeted, sounding almost amused. Donald looked up at him.

The android duck was going through the backpack he was holding. Three bottles of water and some granola bars were on the ground close to Donald (after all, Uno didn’t need them), as well as the open first aid kit, a flashlight (he suddenly realized said flashlight was what was now lighting the small cave they were in, rather than Uno’s eyes), a radio and walkie-talkie, some other useless items and a flashing blue button.

 _Transmitter,_ his brain supplied, remembering the conversation he’d had with Uno before they left.  _Just in case._

“Is it morning?” he asked, watching Uno’s damaged arm catch on the fabric of the backpack.

Uno tugged his arm free, almost careless in the action. “It’s 2:36 AM,” he told Donald, looking up again. He was holding a pack of batteries in his hand- double A, if Donald had to guess, for the walkie-talkie. “Launchpad and the kids are at a hospital, Gladstone told me he and Scrooge are here with a crew to dig us out. Gladstone managed to convince Scrooge we’re not dead without telling him he has a communicator connected to my brain,” he added dryly, an almost-smirk ghosting his face.

Donald chuckled, more relieved than he was willing to admit to hear the humour in Uno’s voice. That meant the situation wasn’t dire. “What’s the talkie for, then?”

“So that when they’re close enough I can contact them. Really, your uncle should learn to not go cheap on these things,” the android complained, looking critically at the device. “What use are these things if their batteries die in three hours and only connect within an eighth of a mile?”

Donald rubbed his eyes. “Maybe after this he will,” he suggested. “Learn, that is. For now, though, I think we need to figure out how to hide your metal casing.”

Uno paused, looking over at him. “That’s gonna be a little difficult,” he said.

“Nah,” Donald dismissed, picking up a roll of bandages. “I have an idea.”

He reached out and grabbed Uno’s arm, pulling it straight out. Uno just raised a brow, watching as Donald began wrapping the “wound” tightly with the bandage.

“This way they won’t see the metal,” Donald explained, though Uno had already gotten the gist of it.

“Except they’re probably gonna send us to a hospital,” Uno pointed out dryly, but he didn’t stop Donald.

“Oh please, you could easily talk Scrooge out of sending you to the hospital,” Donald snorted, accidentally losing grip on the bandage. His hand was shaky, he noticed. “Less money he has to spend, especially when you point out you don’t have insurance. Just say, ‘hey, my injuries aren’t too bad, these bandages are just here to keep dirt out, I can deal with it at home,’ and he will happily let you off the hook.”

Uno didn’t look convinced, especially as Donald had to start the bandaging process over again. He leaned back, letting the silence go for a moment or two.

“So,” he started, watching as Donald pulled the bandage tight again, “how long do you think it’ll take them to realize I’m an android?” He glanced up at the cave ceiling, unable to resist smirking. “Not that I don’t have the  _utmost faith_  in this plan of yours…”

Donald leveled him with the most unimpressed expression Uno had ever seen him muster. “Save the sass, Uno.”

Uno gave a silent laugh, shaking his hand out as soon as Donald released his arm. “You have to admit this cover could go very badly,” Uno said, watching Donald pull out another bandage to wrap around his leg. Thankfully less was exposed there, so he didn’t need to waste too much. “What if Scrooge refuses to listen, hm? Or they have doctors on-site?”

“Maybe Gladstone’s luck will help us,” Donald huffed. “Give me your other hand, I see that finger.”

“You can’t wrap an entire bandage around a finger, Donald.”

“I have gauze,” Donald told him almost smugly, pulling the swatch of gauze out of the kit. Uno rolled his eyes but offered his hand anyway.

“This is a waste of resources,” Uno said.

“Not a waste if it keeps our secrets in check,” Donald retorted, securing the gauze around his finger. He moved closer, grabbing the bandages again, and reached towards Uno’s neck.

Almost on instinct Uno grabbed Donald’s wrist to stop him. “What are you doing?” he asked, eying his biological friend and leaning slightly away.

It was Donald’s turn to roll his eyes. “Metal is exposed on your neck,” he explained, not bothering to try and shake Uno’s hand away- the android might not look like much, but being made of metal and steel made him much stronger than any organic creature was, and Donald knew very well he couldn’t force Uno to let go.

He’d much rather not hurt himself trying, either.

“What,” Donald added jokingly, “developed a bubble while I was unconscious?”

That gave Uno pause. It was a strange thought to him; he didn’t exactly have a personal space bubble- having been a building in the past, he sort of got used to having people… close to him- and especially not when it came to Donald, but for some reason the thought of Donald- or maybe anyone- touching his neck felt… weird.

On animals, he knew, the neck was a vulnerable area. Maybe actually having a neck made him feel an instinctive need to protect it? But why would he feel a need to protect himself from Donald, his closest and most trusted friend?

Uno decided instincts were strange, and he’d much rather filter them out of his learning, growing code.

He let go of Donald’s wrist. 

Of course logically, Uno knew, he should have known that was what Donald was doing. He knew the covering got cut on his neck- he didn’t have pain receptors, but he could feel the rips in his “skin” as easily as he could feel when a wire was out of place. He should have known bandaging it was Donald’s intention.

Instincts were weird and illogical, in this regard. Confusing. He would definitely filter them out.

“A little warning next time, maybe?”

“You ignored me every time I made that same request back at Ducklair Tower,” Donald accused, wrapping the bandage carefully so that none of the metal casing peeked through. 

Once it was done, Donald sat back.

Uno just grinned before turning to the batteries and the walkie-talkie again. “Eat something,” he practically commanded, replacing the dead batteries with the new. “You’re shaking.”

“Yes, mother.”

“Save the sass, Donald,” Uno parroted sarcastically. Static was all that came through the talkie, and he turned it off for the time being. “We’ll be here a while.”

“At least we won’t die.”

Uno glanced at the bandage on his arm, frowning. “Of course we won’t,” he agreed, shifting over to sit against the wall again, across from Donald this time. He watched as Donald ate a granola bar. “We’ve been through worse than this.”

_Drip… drip… drip…_

That water was going to drive him crazy.

They waited.


	2. Inhuman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wasn't planning on adding more to this but then this happened.
> 
> Sorry not sorry :)

It was almost inhuman.

Scrooge was frowning sharply as he pulled the stones away, careful not to do anything the professionals had said not to.

He couldn’t help but think about it, now that the adrenaline was drained from his system. He was no longer panicking, no longer fretting over Donald and his nephew’s friend, no longer worrying about the pain the kids and Launchpad were in. They were safe in the closest city, in a hospital there.

It was around three thirty in the morning, but his worry kept him awake and going. Gladstone fiddled with the walkie-talkie behind him, desperate to hear anything beyond static, and not for the first time Scrooge regretted buying the cheap ones. He’d never imagined the cave-in would happen.

It was almost inhuman, Scrooge thought, the way Uno acted.

At first he didn’t notice. He didn’t notice until Donald suggested Uno come on an adventure with them-  _“Like the old days, eh, partner?”_ \- and Scrooge saw how he reacted to everything.

He was too calm. Too level-headed. Never affected by emotion, while everyone else worried or panicked he just looked around and got back on track, seemingly without a thought towards the problem, and focused only on how to fix it.

Not a bad thing, Scrooge supposed- but still rather inhuman.

He reacted too quickly, too- faster than anyone else did. It was only a fraction of a second or so, but in the field that fraction of a second made all the difference- he would move before anyone else even processed that something had happened. He’d react while what was happening happened, and not when everyone else did.

He still wasn’t fast enough to keep Donald from getting hurt.

Uno seemed almost inhuman, but the moment Magica’s spell crashed into the earthen support, he seemed only too human.

Shock, fear and worry had all written themselves onto that duck’s face as he reached for Donald and yelled, but for once Donald was the one who reacted first- moving away from his friend to Huey, scooping him up and bodily throwing him to Gladstone- to safety- a moment before stone fell on him.

Scrooge remembered yelling for Donald, and in a flash Uno was by his side, catching him before he could fall. The earth shook, the stones fell, and Scrooge and the others were forced back while Magica fled. Even as the stone piled up- as Donald and Uno disappeared from sight, hopefully to somewhere safe- Scrooge realized the cave-in wasn’t done.

Dust and rocks fell from above. Louie was screaming for Donald, running towards the forming wall, and Scrooge wasn’t fast enough to grab him before a rock hit him.

Louie in his arms, he backed away and ran for the exit.

The kids all screamed- in fear, they screamed for their Uncle Donald, all of them reaching back for someone who might not be there anymore.

Launchpad threw Dewey the last few feet from the cave before he was slammed with a stone. He came out with a broken leg and a hell of a bruise.

Gladstone panicked.  _At first._  He panicked, the same as Scrooge and the kids panicked, but then after a few minutes he calmed down.

It was almost inhuman.

He took charge.

 _“Get a grip, Scrooge!”_ Gladstone had barked, grabbing his shoulders. Scrooge was silenced not by his command, but by just how serious he was for perhaps the first time in his life.  _“The kids and Launchpad need a doctor and we need a team to get Don and Uno out!”_

They were dead, Scrooge was so sure. But Gladstone refused to hear it. He insisted they were alive, and it was a foolish hope though Scrooge desperately clung to it, too.

Even if they were dead, Scrooge decided as he watched Gladstone call a car for the injured, he wanted to find them.

He didn’t want to bury more empty caskets.

So he dug through the stone, with the help of tools, his bare hands, a team of professionals and, god granted, Gladstone’s luck. He was afraid of what they’d find.

He was afraid of what they’d find until the talkie finally came to life, Uno’s voice coming through clear and unpanicked.

Gladstone looked at him, satisfied to be proven right, as Uno announced that they were alive.

 _“Donald is injured,”_  the duck said through the device,  _“Pretty badly. Not life threatening, I don’t think, but he needs a doctor. I did what I could with the first aid kit. He’s sleeping right now, and I think the pain medication is wearing off.”_

It was relayed so calmly, without any trace of worry or fear. Even as they resumed the dig with more vigor, knowing they were close to where the two ducks were trapped and time was of the essence, Scrooge couldn’t help but ponder it.

It was almost inhuman, yet it was human enough.

* * *

 Uno was honestly starting to really get worried.

The others were close, of course- it would be only a matter of ten, fifteen minutes until they reached Donald and himself. But he was worried about Donald.

The bandage around Donald’s abdomen was very red, though Uno was sure he had done it right. It wasn’t rapid blood loss, he knew as he leaned over his sleeping friend to check on him, but the bloodstain was slowly growing over time.

Why wasn’t it clotting?

As far as Uno knew- and considering he’d known Donald for fifteen, sixteen years now, he did- Donald wasn’t anemic. He didn’t have any of the signs or symptoms, either.

Maybe the wound was just too large? Was there not enough pressure? Did he just not know how these things worked...?

It was slow, but it still looked like way too much blood being lost, all things considered. He wished he still had access to the scanners of Ducklair Tower, he could easily check Donald’s state then.

Deciding the injury was more serious than he gave it credit for, Uno grabbed the talkie from its place on the floor.

However, before he could even press the button stone fell away from the collapsed rock wall, a flood light filling the small cavern. Uno looked over, relieved to see someone looking through the hole.

“Gladstone?” he called, staring at the wall. “Scrooge?”

“We’re here!” Gladstone called through the wall as the team worked on removing the last layer of stones.

“Oh thank goodness,” Uno sighed, setting the talkie back down. “I think I might have underestimated Donald’s injuries.”

But Donald was just fine an hour before, Uno thought as he looked back at his friend. Was it just a result of the painkillers? He had given Donald the stronger ones in the kit, as he was really out of it and hurting. Regular over-the-counter meds didn’t seem like enough- or maybe Uno, who’d never used painkillers nor had any need for them, underestimated those too?

Soon someone was there to look at Donald, and Uno, though he didn’t really want to, moved aside to allow them to assess Donald’s injuries. After a few seconds, the dog foreman called for some others who slipped in with a stretcher. The rest of the team seemed focused on getting the wall cleared out enough for the medics- at least Uno assumed they were medics, their uniforms were dusty and the shadows cast by the floodlight were sharp and dark even to his own eyes so he couldn’t see any emblems or symbols- to safely exit with Donald on the stretcher.

“Uno,” Gladstone called, peering through the opening. It was large enough for people to get through. “You can come out now, you know.”

“Right.” Uno stood up and went to the hole. He climbed through easily enough, and if he stumbled on the other side he certainly didn’t care.

Gladstone grabbed his arm to steady him and raised a brow as he noticed the bandages. Uno shrugged a bit, unable to explain with Scrooge and the rest of the team around.

“Gladstone, get the lad outt’a here and to the medics,” Scrooge said.

“Got it, unk,” Gladstone answered, walking away from the rocks. Uno glanced back, frowning nervously, before following Gladstone out of the tunnel.

Once they were clear of the tunnel and the echo, Gladstone hissed, “So what’s the plan?”

“To convince them I don’t need medical attention?”

“Lemme guess, that’s a Donald plan.”

Uno could see a medic start in his direction. “Yep,” he confirmed. “But it was the only thing we could think of.”

“Come over here,” the medic said to Uno, gesturing towards where an ambulance waited. “So we can check your injuries.”

“I’m not really injured,” Uno told her awkwardly, playing a bit with the bandage on his arm. “I just got a little cut up and Donald worried about dust and infections.”

“Well, still, we need to check and make sure it’s not something more serious-”

At that moment there was a crash, a commotion in the cave and someone was calling, “Anita!” The medic immediately hurried to the cave, leaving Uno and Gladstone alone.

They looked at each other.

“Just got lucky,” Gladstone claimed as the two looked back at the medics all hurrying into the cave. Uno could only guess someone made a misstep and stone from the wall collapsed on someone. He could only hope that that someone wasn’t Donald. Or Scrooge, of course.

Uno took an unneeded breath, a habit he’d started picking up from Donald now that he had his own body (metal, though it was, it was made to emulate many biological functions, including eating and breathing, and annoyingly enough he’d found himself lately picking up a lot of habits from the people around him), and assured himself that it wouldn’t be his friend or his friend’s uncle that needed all of those medics.

Although it was illogical, he just had to bank on Gladstone’s luck for it.

* * *

By the time Donald was in the ambulance and one of the team members in the other (Uno found he was correct, the poor man dislodged the wrong stone and got buried, but he was alive so that was good), Anita the medic had completely forgotten about Uno, and when one of the other medics asked he simply claimed he had already been attended to.

Now he sat in Gladstone’s car- the car he, Gladstone and Donald had ridden in while the others risked Launchpad’s driving in the limo- with Scrooge, following the ambulances to the hospital. Uno answered Scrooge’s questions as honestly as their secrets allowed, leaning against the window while staring ahead towards the ambulance.

Donald had been through much worse, he knew, but that was usually when he was PK. Right now he was  _Donald,_  not PK. Things like this, villains trying to kill him, wasn’t supposed to happen to Donald.

(Of course, Uno knew that was illogical too- Donald was, in his own right without his PK identity, a semi-famous retired adventurer and one of the only living nephews of Scrooge McDuck, the richest duck in the world. It shouldn’t be a surprise that Donald would get seriously hurt on one of these adventures- especially considering the things Donald had told him about the past, the things that made Uno cold towards Scrooge and, though to a lesser degree, Della. It had taken Gladstone learning the truth and keeping the secret- and even  _helping_ them- for Uno to even think about forgiving him for the things he did to Donald, and his transgressions were much less severe than Scrooge’s own laundry list.)

“Don’t worry, Uno,” Gladstone started, glancing at the android in the rearview mirror. “Dee’s been through worse than this.”

“I know,” Uno said simply, turning his gaze out the window. The hospital was coming up. “It could have been prevented.”

“Now, lad, no one could have guessed what Magica would do,” Scrooge told him, stern yet oddly caring. 

Uno couldn’t help the anger that flared up at the old man, but he reminded himself that all of that was a decade in the past-

( _Except at that casino,_ his mind betrayed)

-and Donald and Scrooge were working on their relationship, on mending the bridge so to say. It would do no one any good for him to focus on the past when the two ducks involved were actively trying to leave it... well, in the past.

Besides, Uno shouldn’t get angry at Scrooge on Donald’s behalf.

(But he could still remember when Donald wandered into the 151st floor thirteen years ago, looking like Death had come to claim him early; a cold, he had said, though Uno’s scans told him it was much worse, but he was at the tail-end of it and functional, so Uno dismissed it at the time. It wasn’t until later that Donald told him the full story- about the adventure, the ice, the vortex, everything, and Uno truly understood the severity of his situation.)

Uno forced another unneeded breath into synthetic lungs- functional but unnecessary, more for realism than anything else- and calmly focused on pushing the stories he still associated with the old duck aside. They didn’t matter anymore. He couldn’t let Donald’s history with the duck cloud his own judgments.

It was hard, though, to not remember the anger he’d felt when Donald relayed the stories of those disastrous adventures.

Maybe Donald was a better person than Uno was, putting aside his resentment for the good of his family. Uno found he just couldn’t do the same, from the moment he first met Scrooge to even now, months later. He just couldn’t.

After all, for an android memories don’t fade. He could remember each and every time Donald came back depressed, injured and feeling useless- unimportant- as if they were still happening, as if he was still right there, all playing back like a movie in his head. Every single one- not just the worst or most significant, as with the biological creatures.

Every single one.

“Ye did good, just getting Donald out of the center of the cave-in.”

Uno realized that Scrooge was still speaking. Trying to comfort him- reassure him. He gave a smile, hoping his bitterness wasn’t showing through. He didn’t say anything, though. There was nothing to say. He just got out of the car and headed into the hospital, the other two ducks trailing behind him, to wait.

The memories were inhuman, but he wasn’t sure if his anger was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it establishes that Uno does not like Scrooge (and he’s not fond of Della either) because of his past treatment of Donald on adventures (it took Gladstone proving himself a good ally and friend before Uno let his past transgressions go). Androids don’t forget things easily, especially where it concerns their best friend. (The past adventures, of course, are a reference to those comics with Della.)
> 
> And if you don’t think Uno’s “petty” enough to hold on to grudges/resentment, don’t forget he remembered the Raider’s actions for _two hundred years_ just so he could have him arrested when he got back to the 23rd century. Uno don’t play, y’all.


End file.
